The Whittler
by Merecel
Summary: Amiira has been partnered with a Tauren, and things did not go as she expected. NSFW Shameless smut, rated M for a reason. R&R if you like.


The fire crackled between the two hooved species, similar and yet so different in every way. They both sported horns and tails, hooves and jewelry, but one was covered in fur while the other's skin was blue. Yet they eyed each other warily even though they both practiced the peaceful art of shamanism and communed with the elements, and although they were both part of the Earthen Ring, they despised one another only for what they were: Alliance and Horde. Few had overcome this boundary, and many more still had yet to meet a member of the opposite faction, these particular two thrust together unwillingly to complete a task for their order.

"Would you stop that?" Amiira hissed in Orcish, looking down at the wooden statue in the Tauren's hands with distaste.

He didn't answer her and continued to whittle away, snorting through his nose and shaking his head, the ring in his nose jostling slightly from the movement. His large fingers continued to work deftly at the piece of wood in his other hand, the small carving knife working against the wood to create, what he hoped, would be his masterpiece.  
Amiira sighed heavily and lifted her blue fingers to her temple, massaging ever so gently as she closed her luminescent eyes and thought of home. The Exodar. Away from the Hinterlands, away from this damned Tauren, and away from the bloody Earthen Ring. Although her people, the Draenei, frowned upon shamanism and believed the Light was the only way, she knew her family would welcome her with open arms (although they would probably try to convert her back to being a priestess).

They had been on the road for weeks, perhaps a month, time had been lost to the travelers and the irritation was only growing. Not because she hated him, not because he was Horde, but because she found herself drawn to him and so she hated herself. He was strong, powerful, kind, not what she had expected and he was what she yearned for in a mate. Draenei men were pompous and arrogant while no other Alliance race could fit her...particular needs; worgen were feral and those teeth were too sharp, gnomes were much too small as were the dwarves, humans were just as bad as the draenei until they realized they couldn't please their partner, and the pandaren...well, they were just too fluffy everywhere. The only race that seemed to stand even close to the draenei men were the Tauren, large, broad shouldered beasts with a quiet and calm temperament. Until you pissed them off. But not this shaman, not this Tauren. Not her Blackhorn.

"Would you stop that?" Blackhorn asked across the fire, not looking up from his work.

Amiira blinked hard and cocked her head to the side. "Stop what?" she questioned with a snort.

"Staring at me," he answered, glancing up at her lazily. "You are thinking too loud. The wind carries your thoughts."

She blushed a slight amethyst and looked down, her heart racing in her chest. Traitorous elements, always revealing themselves in the worst possible ways. She clenched her hands in her lap and breathed deeply, calming herself and focusing on the elements, willing them to ease with her. They did, the breeze that had picked up around them calming and it was quiet in the grass covered land once more. When she opened her eyes and looked up at Blackhorn, he was staring at her but his furry face was unreadable. "What?" she asked, leaning back and eyeing him quizzically.

He shook his head and snorted once more, looking down at the wooden statue in his hands and continued working.

The smell of burning flesh and hot magma floated on the wind, screams of pain and agony following suit as the duo trampled through the Vilebranch compound Jintha'alor, killing every troll they came across. This was their quest, this was their mission, to retrieve the tablet and return it on behalf of the Earthen Ring. Amiira questioned why they had to be the ones to do it, but if the Elders commanded, she obeyed. Blackhorn swung his mace into the face of a green troll, his weapon imbued with the power of fire, singing the hair on the creature as they continued forward. They were hard pressed, Amiira barely being able to keep up with healing herself and her comrade while fending off the Vilebranch warriors that stalked around to the side. She swung her shield and bashed one in the face, grunting hard as it reverberated through her arm and sent jolts up her shoulder. She was a healer for a reason, she didn't like fighting, she didn't like bashing skulls in, not like Blackhorn did.

Glancing up at the Tauren in that thought, she had turned just in time to see his legs become shackled by spectral chains and Blackhorn fall to the earth. She wore it shook beneath her feet. Calling upon the spirits of Water, she willed them to keep him alive and wash over his injuries while she dealt with the shadow caster. Running as fast as her cloven feet would allow, she called upon the forces of air to knock her target back, and prayed for the forces of fire to swallow her enemies head in molten hot lava. Her pleas were heard as another scream echoed off the compound and the shadow caster fell, clutching her head in a sad attempt to pull the hot rocks from her head. "You do not know who you deal with," Amiira growled, smashing her mace into the troll's head as it hardened, shattering the creature with a single blow.

Looking back to her motionless friend, she panicked as she saw multiple trolls running to him with their spears drawn; she wasn't sure if she had the strength or energy to call upon the spirits to resurrect him, she only hoped he would last until she got to him. Running back, the draenei pulled a totem from her belt and flung it towards Blackhorn, the little wooden statue morphing into a large version as it pulsed and pulled the electricity from the air itself. It crackled as the creatures grew closer, then it erupted and shot electric currents to every threat in the area, stunning them and giving Amiira ample time to deal with them. She swung her mace to bash the remaining trolls away, calling upon the waters to heal her friend once more. With the enemies gone and no more remained, she finally reached him and fell to her knees beside him, pushing her hands under his arm in an attempt to flip him over. He groaned as he rolled, two broken arrows protruding from his right shoulder and he was covered in nicks, the front of his mail armor was damaged and pieces were missing, allowing her to see the full extent of the damage done to him. "Blackhorn," she muttered, her hands shaking as she looked at him to try and figure out what to do.

He groaned again and lifted his head to look at his chest, chuckling slightly until it turned into a groan of pain as his head flopped back to the ground. "Ugh, not so bad," he said, grimacing again from his chuckle.

"Are you crazy?" Amiira asked, although it was rhetorical, her body leaning forward to grab at the arrows in his shoulder and she pulled. He let out a loud grunt of pain as they pulled from his body, fur and skin following with the arrowhead, but her hands immediately covered the wound and called upon the waters to heal him. She was running out of energy and could feel her lids beginning to close from exhaustion, but she was determined to keep him alive, for the sake of the mission. One wound closed and healed completely, her hand moving to the other arrow and repeating the same process, but her hands began to tingle as the elementals dwindled within her and she could tell that there would be no more healing from her. Opting for something a little more practical, she pulled out some bandage from her bag and pressed it against his still open wound, shaking from exhaustion. Suddenly, her world went black.

She awoke to the smell of fire and panicked, trying to bolt upright but a pair of strong hands held her back. That was when she realized she was resting against Blackhorn's chest. "Do not move, you will steal the warmth away," he grunted at her, easing her back against his chest.

"But you are injured," she said, struggling against his hold, trying to turn so she could at least see him. He allowed her, the Draenei spinning to prop herself on her knees and she realized he had been holding her between his legs, one knee propped up to keep her propped up. She blushed before remembering why she had turned around and saw that his armor had been removed and there were bandages wrapped around his body. "I know some healing myself." The corner of his mouth turned upwards into a grin as she shook her head in dismay.

"That is hardly healing," she said, flexing her fingers as she realized the elements had returned to her. She hopped forward on her knees slightly so she was closer to him, pressing her hands against his bare chest and felt the energies flow from her fingertips to his body, her eyes closing of their own volition. It wasn't until she felt a warmth on her own hands that her luminescent orbs opened and saw him staring at her, his large hand enveloping both hers easily.

They were silent as they stared at one another, the traitorous wind swirling their thoughts around the other, Amiira's heart racing wildly in her chest and she was very much aware of the same thing with Blackhorn. Her hands were on his chest after all. His hand trailed from her hand up her arm to her shoulder slowly, and yet she still didn't move, her body wouldn't allow it; he continued to trail up until it was at the nape of her neck and he could feel his large hand engulf the back of her head, pulling her forward.  
She went willingly, a burning sensation pooling through her lower abdomen as he pulled her close, their hearts continuing to race almost in unison. Then, he pulled her face against his and their lips met. It was awkward with the shape of his mouth, but neither paid any attention to that.

Amiira's hands moved from his chest to his face, cupping his cheeks as they kissed and she found that the pressure from his hand on her neck was forcing her body closer to his, her chest pressing against his. He winced as her mail armor pressed into his body, his wounds still not fully healed, and let out a soft hiss. She pulled back hastily and frowned, putting her hands back to her chest and summoning the waters to heal him. It was only a moment before he grunted loud and grabbed her wrists, pushing her back so she was against pinned to the earth and he was settled between her legs. Blackhorn's tongue snaked out and licked her neck, eliciting a soft purr from the Draenei beneath him. "What are you doing?" she groaned, her back arching upwards in an attempt to ease the ache that had started in her nipples.

"Tasting you," Blackhorn replied, trailing his tongue upwards to her ear. "You smell so sweet. Does the rest of you taste this way?" His voice was husky in her ear, a heady sigh coming from her lips. His hands released her wrists and he leaned back, Amiira sitting up with him and removing the armor that was covering her. Clad now in a dirty white tunic and her grey breeches, he returned his tongue to her neck and began his way downward, the v neck collar being pushed aside so he could taste her chest.

Again she arched her back upwards, her knee lifting from the ground to drape over his leg and pull him closer. That familiar yearning in her body spread from her core to her breasts, and to her hands as she reached down to grab his manhood. "Eager?" he asked her, closing his eyes as a small surge of pleasure shocked him from her touch, his member hardening at the idea of what could happen here. For days now all he could think about was her, all he saw was her, even when he slept all he could dream about was her. The alien beauty with such similar features, a slender body, a curvaceous behind that had him rocking into his own hand on nights he allowed himself to indulge. "I hear you sometimes, at night."

Amiira stopped her hand and looked up at him, confusion on her face. "My name on your lips," he said, rising from her chest to look into her eyes. "I thought they were nightmares, but you always let out a sigh. And it took all the powers of the elements to stop me from mounting you. Not when we had a mission."

Blackhorn lifted his hand from the earth and pressed it between her legs, feeling the warmth and wetness that pooled through her bottoms. "I know you touch yourself here, thinking of me," he said, rotating his finger around that wet spot, smiling as her breathing quickened. "Do you know I think of you? Where you were touching." His large finger trailed up from that spot to her belly, sliding under the band of her breeches to slide his finger over her wetness. His brows rose in surprise at how wet she was, a soft growl escaping him as she grabbed his erection again.

"Show me what you think about," she whispered, squeezing him gently and grinding against his hand to feel the friction she so yearned for.

Blackhorn snorted and pulled his hand from her pants, leaning back and yanking them off of her, throwing them to the side as she let out a yelp. He smirked and lowered himself to her wet core, taking a tentative lick and earning himself a sharp intake of breath from Amiira. He licked again, and again, her breathy gasps turning to moans as he pleasured her, a curious finger returning to her body and sliding between the folds and through her center. She let out a loud moan at the intrusion, her hands immediately flying to the black horns that gave him his family name. "Oh, Blackhorn," she muttered, rocking against his hand.

"Oren," he said between licks, looking up at her. "Call me Oren." He resumed his work, pushing into her a little harder and a little faster, his tongue flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves.

She threw her head back and moaned louder, that familiar tingling sensation starting in her belly and spreading through her legs. "Oren, I… I'm going to…" she stumbled, unable to get her sentence out.

At that moment he pulled away from her and undid his own breeches, shoving his hard manhood into her, her muscles pulsating and flitting around him as he rode her orgasm out. Amira's moan was like music to his ears, urging his body to continue the thrusting that caused her orgasm, his tongue returning to her neck. He could feel her hooves rest against his back as he thrust into her, her slick walls tightening around his cock as he reached a spot deep within her. "Flip," he said, pulling out of her and she followed his instructions, flipping over onto her hands and knees for him to enter her from behind, his hands on her blue hips.

She let out a loud gasp at the new position, his hard length reaching deeper than she'd ever been penetrated before. Amiira couldn't recall a time someone had pleasured her like this, not even the Draenei partner she had some time ago had done such a marvelous job at reaching so deliciously deep. Oren moved her tail to the side, smacking her lightly against her blue bottom and chuckling. With every thrust she grunted and groaned from the pleasure, getting louder as he increased in speed, his hand on her back to lower her shoulders to the earth and she screamed as another orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her fingers grabbing at the grass as her body shook from the sheer pleasure. The tauren's grew louder as he thrusted as hard as he could, his end nearing sooner than he had wanted; he didn't want to stop, not yet, she was so tight and wet and she felt amazing, just a little bit longer.

"Oren, come inside me," she panted, letting out another groan as that deliciously sweet spot was hit again.

That was all it took and he reached his end, grunting hard as he spilled his seed inside her, her walls tightening and milking him for every drop. They stayed like that for a few moments while they caught their breath, Oren finally pulling his soft member from inside her and fell back on his bottom, breathing heavily.

Amiira rolled onto her back and sighed, resting a hand on her full womb, a smile plastered on her face. "Now that is a quest reward I can get behind," she said with a chuckle, looking for her pants. However, her eyes came across the wooden carving that Blackhorn had been working on and so she grabbed for it, lifting it to eye level and she smiled. It was a wooden effigy of herself, the same curved horns, short hair and dress. So it was true, he thought of her just as much as she thought of him.


End file.
